The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; 9
What is her burying grave that is her womb,
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find, 12
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O! mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities: 16
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give,
Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: 20
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower
Poison hath residence and medicine power: 24
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; 28
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Rom. Good morrow, father!
Fri. L. Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? 32
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
7 osier cage: willow basket
15 mickle: great
grace: efficacy
28 grace: the grace of God
30 canker: parasitic worm
31 Benedicite: God bless you
33 distemper'd: mentally or morally deranged
